


that's the thing about illicit affairs (born from just one single glance)

by asahijpeg



Series: snktober month 2020 [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Figure skater!Armin, Gen, M/M, Sports, armin arlert pines, day three: sports au, ice hockey player!jean, jean kirstein is bad at feelings, snktober, snktober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:02:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26795572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asahijpeg/pseuds/asahijpeg
Summary: "i saw you practicing a while ago and i thought you looked really... good."in which armin is a competitive figure skater, jean is a hockey player, and they have a single fleeting chance meeting.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Jean Kirstein
Series: snktober month 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945990
Comments: 3
Kudos: 54
Collections: SNKTOBER Month 2020





	that's the thing about illicit affairs (born from just one single glance)

chilly november air bites harshly at jean’s skin, even through the thick winter coat that has become a staple of his wardrobe during the freezing months. his athletic bag swings against him, bumping roughly against his hip as he makes his way through the doors of the ice rink; hockey practice is over for the rest of the week, but he feels like he needs to get some extra time in, so even on a late saturday afternoon, he’s found himself at the rink.

he never comes here during the weekend, so there’s a strange energy in the air when he crosses the threshold of the rink into the lobby, one he’s never felt before. the place is strangely empty, though he should have gathered that from the way the parking lot was completely deserted. like clockwork, he follows the path he normally takes to get to the locker room, mind set on changing, getting on the ice, and practicing.

unlike clockwork, as he steps through the doors into the main rink area, he hears the telltale sound of blades against ice, a noise that annoyed him to no end when he first started skating but has since become one of his favorite songs. against his better judgment, he steps up to the glass that outlines the edge of the rink, sets it apart from the stands, and when his eyes fall upon the person skating across the rink, he swears his heart stops entirely.

coming out of a perfect salchow is a blond haired, blue eyed beauty, his cheeks and nose a blistering red. he doesn’t look all that special, wearing only some tight fitting sweatpants and a sweater, his bangs clipped away from his forehead, but even so, he carries himself gracefully from his salchow into his next trick, jean can’t help but feel immediately drawn to him. there’s just something about the way the boy moves so delicately, so easily, like ice skating is what he was simply born to do. he finds himself glued to his spot, mid stride, as he watches the blond continue his routine, the thought of getting changed and practicing completely out the window.

armin can feel a gaze on him, lingering and reverent, not unlike a guardian angel watching over him as he kicks himself off the ground into a lutz. it worries him, gnaws at the back of his attention just a bit, but he’s too focused on getting his routine perfect that he can’t bring himself to care; if it was a murderer, he’s moving too fast for them to even get him anyways. before long, the idea of someone watching him fails to be noticed regardless because his mind is too set on trying to land the final jump of the routine, a quadruple salchow. his coach had been adamant while they were choreographing the routine that a quadruple jump wasn’t required; if armin couldn’t get it down to a perfect execution every time, then they’d just change it to a simpler jump. armin being ever the perfectionist, though, insisted on doing it, so here he is on a saturday afternoon, running and rerunning his routine, trying to land one of the most difficult figure skating jumps ever.

the lead up is perfect, just the right amount of momentum and the right position, and the execution… the moment is over in a split second, but when armin lands again, his left leg carrying him in an arc back towards the center of the ice, he feels like it lasted ten years. breathless and ecstatic, he finishes in his final pose, holds it for a few long seconds to catch his breath, and then straightens his back, vibrant blue eyes immediately searching for the person watching him.

jean’s breath is caught in his throat; he can tell that the final jump in this routine is a difficult one because of the skater’s look of raw, absolute determination that was visible even from this far away, but the way he looked when he landed it perfectly was enough to solidify the fact that he’s an incredible figure skater. red in the cheeks, jean is still stuck to the spot, even when the blond’s eyes find his own, his shoulders heaving to catch his breath. for a few long moments, they simply stand there, gazes locked, before jean is blinking himself out of his daze and making his way quickly towards the locker room.

armin is slightly taken aback when the mystery man turns and strides off quickly, an athletic bag bumping against his side harshly in time with his quick steps. he blinks in confusion, trying to figure out what the man was feeling, but shrugs it off, instead electing to run the routine again quickly. he sticks the quadruple salchow again and he can feel the pride building up in his core as he closes the routine, skates towards the edge of the ice so he could get ready to go home.

as he’s sitting on the bench, undoing the laces of his skates, armin watches as the man from before sits down a few benches away and laces up, steps onto the ice, a hockey stick slung across his shoulder and a puck nestled in his free hand. he watches as he takes the ice, does some warm up laps around the rink, and then rights himself in the center of the ice, his eyes trained on the goal at the end up the rink. 

jean is self conscious of the blond’s gaze on him, his heart beating wildly under the attention of a clearly gifted figure skater. he’s never had this feeling quite this acute before, not even during actual games, but suddenly, he feels incredibly nervous and is apprehensive to even take the first step. he’s measuring his skills up to the boy sitting on the other side of the glass, even though they’re completely and entirely  _ different _ , and the performance anxiety is sneaking up on him. his lead up to the goal is awful and when his stick makes contact with the ice in an effort to connect with the puck and send it into the net, he’s not surprised when he completely and utterly  _ blows _ the shot, sending the little black disc careening to the left of the goal.

his face  _ burns _ with embarrassment and he can’t bring himself to look anywhere, focus on anything but getting the puck and trying again. he can’t imagine how bad of a player that figure skater must now think he is, missing an easy shot like that, but he doesn’t want to put attention on that thought, just wants to practice in peace; it’s just difficult because he can still feel the watchful gaze of the blond. so he shrugs it off, closing his eyes tightly and taking a breath to even himself out, to set his mind at ease before he sets his shot up again.

armin has to hold back a laugh when he watches the man miss the first shot of his solo practice, but he feels bad for having to; he remembers when he was first starting out as a figure skater and always messing up simple jumps, always falling at some point or another, and being upset when people laughed at him for it. so instead, he takes a deep breath and lets his focus zero in on the man on the ice, lining himself up for another shot. he’s having too much fun watching this complete stranger practice hockey, so much so that he loses track of time and jumps when someone calls his name from behind.

“armin, what’s the hold up?” the voice belongs to eren, the green eyed boy leaning against the doorway, a thick sweater wrapped around him. “i’ve been waiting outside for, like… fifteen minutes. i thought we were gonna go get dinner.”

armin jumps up, spouting apology after apology as he pulls his bag over his shoulder and makes a beeline for his friend. “i’m sorry! i wasn’t paying attention to the time.”

eren rolls his eyes in jest, letting out a laugh. “it’s whatever. let me pick where we go get food and all will be forgiven.”

the figure skater smiles, bumping his shoulder against his friend’s when they come to stand side by side. “just what i had in mind. let’s go.”

as they pass through the threshold, armin casts one final glance over his shoulder at the man in the rink. he finds himself surprised when their eyes lock, golden brown eyes watching him as he goes. it makes him smile.

a couple weeks pass by in the blink of an eye, but it feels like they’ve come to a snail’s pace for armin. he doesn’t know what it is, can’t place it, but his mind always seems to wander back to the stranger he saw at the ice rink, even against his will. he finds himself thinking about ashy brown hair and bronze eyes, a sharp jawline and slim body tucked away in a nice sweater and jeans, a blush seemingly permanently etched into tan skin.

it’s nothing short of obsession and armin keeps an eye out for this mystery man when he goes to the rink, almost desperately hoping to catch even the smallest of a glance of him. there’s something about this guy that is drawing him in and every time he doesn’t see him at the rink is a little pinprick of sadness. 

however, despite the let down of not having seen the stranger for a while, armin still practices his routine and eventually realizes one late night as he’s coming off the ice for a final time that he’s been polishing his set to a degree of perfection that he’s never strived for before. he’s always been a perfectionist, but there’s something about the way that he’s cleaning up every jump, landing, and pose as best he can and he knows that it’s all because of a complete stranger he saw only  _ once _ . he can’t be mad, though, because that hockey player’s attention had given him the boost he needed to refine the quadruple salchow and execute the jump perfectly every time, all in the hopes that maybe he’d come back and see him and watch him again, but the hope wanes every day that he doesn’t return.

before long, it’s been three weeks since armin last saw the hockey player, his hopes dashed of ever seeing him again. 

_ maybe he was just passing through and wanted to get some practice in. maybe he’s from a town over and his town’s rink was closed or something. maybe… _

the blond’s mind is  _ still  _ filled with maybes as he steps out of eren’s car and retrieves his bag from the back seat. the parking lot is starting to fill up, typical for events like these, mostly because of him, some figure skating prodigy born from the dirt of their town, some kind of pride about having such a talented person come from their soil; he’s not mad about it, never has been, but it’s a weird feeling to him, to have people look up to and respect him, to turn out to his competitions just to support him.

“you’re going to do great, armin.” mikasa’s voice is quietly bright, a dim golden light that breaks through the clouds of his mind. “you got this just like always.”

he nods and looks back at her over the roof of the car where she’s standing on the other side next to eren. they both look immensely proud, always excited to come support him at his competitions and showcases; he swears that nobody is ever more proud of him than they are, childhood best friends who helped bandage him up when his skin split open from falling on the ice, helped him walk when his feet hurt and his ankles felt ready to snap, helped him with everything he needed.

he smiles at them, bright blue eyes sparkling in the dim evening sunlight of early december, his feeling of determination completely rejuvenated. “thanks, mika. i’ll see you guys after?”

the girl nods in answer and gives him a thumbs up before he turns and begins making his way towards the front doors where people are streaming into the rink, prepared to watch a good couple of hours of competitive figure skating. his mind is almost too focused on nerves to even register the ashy brown hair it had been obsessed with for the better part of almost an entire month, but when he turns to look at the owner, they’ve all but disappeared into the crowd and he feels let down once again. 

time passes in a blur, all from getting into the building to changing to watching several others skate their routines, and before long, it’s armin’s turn to go. with the announcer spouting off information about him and his performance for today, he steps onto the ice and takes a deep breath before he makes his way towards the center of the ice and puts himself in the opening pose of his routine. just before he’s about to close his eyes, though, in the very front row, right in front of him, sits the mystery man with the ashy brown hair and bronze eyes that now hold a reverent glow, exacerbated only by the fleeting ghost of a smile on his face.

_ three weeks, _ armin thinks. three weeks he’s waited to see that hockey player again and suddenly, here he is, sitting front row at his competition, smiling and ready to watch him again, this time in full costume and everything. he finds himself smiling back, a serenity washing over him as he finalizes his starting position and puts his full attention on the task at hand: performing.

the music starts and armin begins flawlessly, skating his way through his routine like it’s the only one he’s ever practiced. he hardly registers the commentators’ remarks as he circles the rink in graceful strides and spins and while he’s nervous like usual, he also notices that he still feels strangely calm, something he never feels when officially performing sets; it’s a welcome feeling, though, because it makes him that much more sure of himself and his movements, steadying his feet when he comes down from jumps. as he approaches the quadruple salchow, he smiles against his own will; he knows he’s going to execute it perfectly and stick the landing, and he wants the hockey player to know that he perfected the whole thing just for him, for someone he doesn’t even know the  _ name _ of.

the jump is over in a split second, the routine finished even faster, but he keeps reliving the final salchow over and over again; when he came down from the jump and landed, he could see jean in the crowd, front row seat, his brown eyes wide with excitement and wonder, and armin knows he would do anything to see that same expression as many times as he can.

after his final pose and after he comes off the ice, the rest of the competition passes in a blur yet again. there are a handful of competitors after him, so he stands by and watches them goodnaturedly, clapping when each one finishes their routine. when awards go out, armin is not surprised to have placed first in his discipline, though it’s more out of the work he did on the technical aspects of his performance rather than complete arrogance, and he congratulates everyone he competed against, offering them genuine words of praise as they all come off the ice together.

with the competition concluded and now changed into regular street clothes, armin is finding his way back to eren and mikasa when he feels a hand grab at his shoulder. his first instinct is to turn and punch, but the second he makes eye contact with the person behind him, his fear falls away. golden eyes and ashy brown hair.

the stranger stutters over his words for a few moments before he clears his throat, rights himself, and starts over. “hi, my name’s jean. i just wanted to say that you did really, really well. i saw you practicing a while ago and i thought you looked really… good.”

armin, at a complete loss for words, blinks dumbly up at the man, whose name he now knows is jean. this does nothing to make the situation better because jean ends up blushing and starts rambling, his words tripping over one another; the ordeal makes armin want to  _ laugh _ because he would have placed jean as someone who is put together and nonchalant, but instead, he’s struggling to find the words he wants to say.

“damn, should i have brought you flowers? i feel like i should have. i’m sorry. i’ve never been to a skating competition like this and i didn’t know if you were performing here or not. i just knew you were going to do well when i saw you practicing and now i feel bad for not getting you flowers. i can go get you a bouquet now if you want-”

armin actually starts laughing, light and airy and  _ bright _ , and it makes jean stop dead in his tracks, words dying in his throat as he listens to the sound that could quickly become music to his ears. he can feel the blush in his cheeks burn even hotter and he looks down at his shoes out of embarrassment; he doesn’t think he’s ever been this awkward in his entire  _ life _ .

“you don’t have to get me anything, jean. it’s fine, really,” the blond says after his laughter dies down. his blue eyes glimmer, a mix of the fluorescents and the unbridled childish happiness that’s gathered in his eyes.

jean’s head shoots up and armin is afraid he’s given himself whiplash, but the man seems undeterred. “no, no. i insist. a good performer deserves to be rewarded for his efforts. if you don’t want flowers, is there anything else i could maybe get for you?”

suddenly, armin’s mind is reeling.  _ i was supposed to go get food with eren and mikasa, and i’m starting to feel hungry… _

“um… well, i don’t ever eat before competitions out of nerves, so i am feeling a little hungry…” armin starts, his fingers finding the hem of his sweater and fidgeting with it.

“then i can take you out for lunch if you’d like! completely my treat,” jean says, his brown eyes sparkling golden. 

armin doesn’t even want to give himself the time to think about it before he’s nodding his head, even against rational judgment; he just finds himself wanting to get to know this hot mess of a hockey player. “yeah, alright.”

jean grins then, brightening his features just that much more. “cool.  _ cool _ . where to then, armin?”

once armin gives the name of a place to get food, jean is leading him towards his car, talking the whole time about armin’s routine. in his distraction, armin pulls out his phone and shoots a quick text to mikasa.

_ getting dinner with someone else. see you later. _

when he slides his phone back into his pocket and looks back up, he notices jean is looking at him fondly, almost like they’ve known each other their whole lives.

he swoons.

**Author's Note:**

> title from "illicit affairs" by taylor swift, folklore (2020)
> 
> this whole premise was ripped from an idea that my friend and i wrote on twitter a month ago. i absolutely adore the idea of figure skater armin and hockey player jean. it's so precious to me.


End file.
